


The Monster's Mouth (Crushing Mass)

by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory



Series: TG Prompt Collection [25]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Amon's Kakuja, Angst, Dark Thoughts, Other, Prompt Fic, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory/pseuds/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory
Summary: ANONYMOUS:Wowie, can you imagine what must have been going through Amon's mind as he experienced a kugune then an eventual, uncontrollable kakuja develope? And of course as the RC suppressants were administered? o.o





	

The first time Amon’s back split open, a gaping maw ripping into existence between his shoulder blades, he wasn’t allowed to pass out. He couldn’t remember the cause of it ( _though now he knew fear was his main trigger - hunger and anger had nothing on fear_ ), but he certainly remembered the aftermath ( _cold water falling over his face, down his nose, into his lungs, over and over and over as pain crashed over him like an avalanche_ ).   
  
The first time, he wondered “how do children survive this?”.  
  
Afterwards, he realized that many don’t. Those that do eventually learn that life is pain ( _that thought, that regret, eats at him like the emptiness in his stomach cannot_ ). They got used to it.   
  
Amon never got used to it.  
  
The slick feeling of his own blood sliding down his spine never changed, however everything else did. The…mass that slid free warped further with every mouthful of ( _rotting fish guts, grave dirt, mustard left in his fridge for far too long right after he lost-_ ) they shoved down his throat. It’s shape tore him open in new ways every time.   
  
The doctor had found that fascinating. Had talked about RC cells gathering around injuries, how it let ghouls free their kagune painlessly with time, and how Amon didn’t heal right. Didn’t work right. _Wasn’t right._  
  
He’d always be in pain ( _he was thankful_ ).   
  
Soon enough, his blood would spatter like a fountain with the force of the kagune’s release. The entire structure would flow over the droplets dotting his skin, wrapping him up, sliding between the joints of the Arata armor pieces that couldn’t be pried from his skin.   
  
Then they would drug him ( _a white-hot needle sliding into his tear ducts, a thousand fires in his veins, like his insides were melting into n o t h i n g_ ). All he could feel at those times was rage and fear. A potent heady combination that made his situation worse ( _causing his kagune to flex and grow and dissolve and grow and-_ ). Afterwards, all he would feel was disgust.   
  
Disgust at the fact that his kakuja armor made him feel safe ( _even as it seemed to spread like spider veins into his brain and make him think…bad thoughts_ ).   
  
Later, when he was free ( _would he ever actually be free?_ ), releasing his kagune still hurt. It hurt like the burn of an overused muscle though - it was almost nostalgic. His armor, while it still looked like armor ( _not the one that stretched his bones and…he didn’t remember those times. They were short blackouts that he would not allow to last_ ), made him feel…  
  
Nothing.   
  
Like the noise-cancelling technology they’d taught him about in the academy, his positive and negative memories of armor ( _of safety, of distress, of being a ghoul or a CCG agent_ ) were overwhelming until they collided. Then, they were nothing.   
  
Just like him, it would serve its purpose and then cease to exist. Then it would be resurrected again…and again…and again…until he could make some sense out of the world around him. Or until this world eliminated him.  
  
Whichever came first.


End file.
